A Duck And A Hippo Walk Into A Bar
by Gail Cregg
Summary: His head hurts. The pillow is soft. Maybe he should find out what they're drinking.


My 50th fanfic goes out to all my readers.  
Thanks for giving me a chance!

A DUCK AND A HIPPO WALK INTO A BAR.

"Tony, Tony wake up."  
Who is that squeezing his hand? The voice seems familiar but he can't quite place it.  
"Come on sleepyhead. You can't stay in bed all day. We're going to the movies remember? A special treat for just the two of us. You and me."  
The movies...he did say he'd go with...and it sounds like fun...but my head is so sore...and this pillow is so soft...  
"Tony?"  
"Mom?"  
What is she doing here? That can't be right. Why isn't it right? She is...she is...something. It is too painful and his mind refuses to go there. He struggles to open his eyes. To see who it is holding his hand and talking in that gentle voice. To ask his Mom why she is there and why she went away.

A bar. What am I doing in a bar? Didn't I just start the day at my desk? He glances at his wrist to check the time. And why am I wearing Gibbs' watch with that ugly orange strap? Not the right style for a very special agent at all.

Hmm. This bar seems familiar. He leans back in the booth and casually looks around. Could it be where Gibbs shot that he/she who killed Pacci? What a strange case that was. What a kiss. Is it the bar with photos of the fallen? The one where with no ceremony and no fuss the pictures are placed as a constant reminder of those lost. Paula, Langer and all the rest. Is it where he and Jane...Jean...Jeanne shared oysters? Or where he'd been chatting with Ziva and received an eyeball in his drink? That had been quite a shock. Or the one from the Atlas case...the waitress in that silly cowboy hat drugging the Marines? Could it be where Jimmy had his fake bachelor party?

Sleep. Sleep would be good. All this thinking is making my head hurt even more. Maybe I should rest. Lose myself in dreams and memories. Mom, Dad, Paula, Kate, Tim, Abby, Ziva, Ducky, Jimmy, Gibbs. All the cases. All the years. But who is that talking at the bar? Why won't they shut up?

Huh? This is getting very odd. He blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. Standing at one end of the bar is a duck wearing a bow tie, a floppy hat and using a golf club as a walking stick. At its waist is a ceremonial sword. The duck is conversing with an extremely large hippo barely seated on a bar stool, who is wearing a studded dog collar and a red cape with a skull on it in shiny studs. It is almost impossible to tell what they are talking about as the duck's Scottish accent is quite thick.

Jethro? Did that duck just say Jethro? And something about decreasing his intake of bourbon and trying him on a different brand of kibble. What? Isn't that dog food? The Boss prefers a beer marine...marina...marinated steak.

Near them and listening with rapt attention is a gremlin, exactly like those in the movies except for a scrub cap, booties and glasses. Well at least it's not an aardvark then I'd_ really_ think I'm going crazy. Seated further along the bar is a frog, obviously French by the cut of his suit, arguing with a shady looking character with an eye patch.

His gaze drifts over the last patron at the bar until his mind catches up. He looks again. Yes, there actually is a goldfish in the uniform of a Catholic school girl giving him a seductive wink. He must get over there and find out what she wants. As he starts to walk towards her the world goes black.

"Tony."  
A male voice this time. A little gruff. A little rough. Like sandpaper. Obviously not used much. A functional mute. Who is that? Not the McGeek. The probie is so much more confident than he once was. Not stumbling over his words, overusing tech terms or rushing to finish a sentence as if someone would interrupt and tell him to stop. I've almost got it...  
"DiNozzo."  
The director. Why would the director be at a bar? Tomorrow...tomorrow..._ Tom_ Morrow is responsible for running the agency not being out in the field working cases with us. Wait. That's wrong too. The director isn't Morrow anymore. Morrow went...went home. It's Vance now but that doesn't sound like him. I _know_ that voice.

"DiNozzo."  
Tony opens his eyes and is not entirely shocked to find that he is lying in a hospital bed with Gibbs standing there glaring at him.  
"What happened?"  
"You need better taste in women DiNozzo."  
"Huh?" The words pot and kettle drift through his mind.  
"Your date last night."  
"Yeah?"  
"Can you remember it?"  
Tony struggles to think. "Went to a bar. After she wanted to come to mine. I wasn't feeling well. Turned her down."  
"Good thing ya did. We checked her out this morning. She has a record."  
"What for?"  
"Picking up guys in bars. Slipping something in their drink either at the bar or later at their place and then when the vic passes out her and her boyfriend steal whatever they can find."  
"Her_ boyfriend_?"  
"Not the point DiNozzo. You had a lucky escape. When McGee came by to give you a lift to work you were passed out on your living room floor. He got you medical attention then filled us in. Abby knew the name of the woman you were meeting so finding her wasn't hard. Ziva and Tim picked her up."

"Where are the others?" Having gone through the whole being in hospital thing a few times before he's surprised to find none of the team sitting in the room awaiting his recovery.  
"Ducky and Palmer were in earlier. McGee, Ziva and Abby just left."  
"Left?"  
"They've been here most of the afternoon. I sent them home. Kept yabbering about Tim's dog. Glad you're okay DiNozzo."  
"Don't think the team can survive without me Boss?" Tony grins.  
"You promised Abby you'd take her to the movies. She said something about it being a special treat. Now I don't have to."

He turns to leave but not before Tony catches the relief in Gibbs' eyes and the briefest of smiles lighting his face.


End file.
